Where i live to many mine remains a stranger's face
To them i am one from a far away place
Our accents not similar though our language the same
Yet with them little in common i share of which i could name
I never do tell them that i do write rhyme
As most of them would dismiss such a hobby as a waste of time
I live in my own way and do my own thing
And i leave it to them their own praises to sing
I am not one who is community minded i have come to realize
Life can be lonely for those who do not socialize
Since from there i have been many Seasons away
In the place where i came from i may feel a stranger today
But suppose life is what we make out of it is true to say
With me anyhow it is surely this way.
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